


My Own Secret Ceremonials

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Forest Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED, idk what else to tag darlings, it's rough but they're down for it, there's a tag for forest sex im so happy, they have sex in the forest, this is my entire aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Sirius is a ritual sacrifice to bring his lover back from the moon and he goes willingly, draped in oversaturated goodness, like a reliquary to hold something beautiful.





	My Own Secret Ceremonials

**Author's Note:**

> My muse is playing keep-away for everything else, so here is my take on a nearing-full moon Wolfstar fic! It's rough, so be careful if you're not down with that, but it's all consenting.   
Thank you to @siriuslywritten for the top-notch beta, and to @wilteddaisy for the cheerleading, encouraging and screaming.   
Thank you for reading and being here, I adore you.

It was at times like these Sirius wishes he had paid a little more attention in Astronomy. He knows a fair amount, of course, thanks to an upbringing where the night sky was also the (bloody ridiculous) family tree, but once he’d memorised the full moons for the year he’d immediately stopped putting any kind of effort into those classes. Of course, the easiest way to know the moons—besides looking out of the window, James, you fucking smartass—was to perform a binding ritual with a werewolf, fresh out of Hogwarts, under the dark of the new moon. Then you would always know when the moon was about to crest into fullness, feel it bubbling up under your blood, pulling tides through you and out into the wilderness, begging you to run through undergrowth.

They’d done it on the first new moon out of Hogwarts, bristling and terrified at the things to come, the Dark Mark in the Prophet every other day, Dumbledore’s offer of _making a difference_ looming over their heads. James and Lily had been there too, under the willow tree at the edge of the Potters’ garden. Sirius had wound Lily and James’ hands together with a silk ribbon and tied it around both of their wrists—it still sat there today, golden ribbon that shimmered in the sunlight—and smiled at them as he felt the magic in the air knit Lily and James closer and tighter and more and more in love.

Then, James had turned to Sirius and Remus with another length of golden ribbon and bound their hands together with a glittering burst of magic, and Sirius felt his heart tug and press against his ribs. He felt love fill him up, along his arm to pour down to the sole of his boots, right up to the top of his head. Remus’ eyes were yellow in the non-light of the new moon, just a spell from Lily’s wand illuminating them, and Sirius felt his insides shore up with Remus against them, felt the moon tides wash over him. He took a deep breath as James sliced through the ribbon with his wand and left a loop of it around both of their wrists.

Usually, Sirius’ ribbon glimmers in the full moon, as does Remus’. James and Lily’s are sunlight and golden-glorious, but Remus and Sirius’ are moonlit mercury and silver. Tonight, Sirius expects his ribbon to be shining like a beacon for the way the tides are roiling through him. It feels as if they should be in that concealed little valley in the Peak District with Prongs and Wormy, but they are not.

It’s the new moon tonight. The point in the lunar cycle where Remus should be getting some kind of respite from the hell of the tides and the bloodlust and the fur that prickled in phantom hackles across the back of his neck, whispering quiet-horror nothings until the moonrise, when it bursts through his skin. But he gets no relief this month.

Sirius didn’t realise—did Sinistra cover it? He’s sure he would remember if she did—that there can be super _new_ moons. A time where the moon, although shrouded in darkness, can still exact its pull over the Earth and Remus with it too, pulling at him, pressing and twisting. Sirius feels it too, feels it in his blood and in the marrow of his bones. Remus won’t transform tonight, but it won’t be an easy night for either of them. Remus has been on edge, wrought-out tired, feral and physical, for the past few days. Sirius has been feeling it too, along with the slow-simmering anger that Remus’ usual time of respite has been snatched away from him too.

Sex before the full moon has been the same since Hogwarts too. Remus is on edge for the whole waxing gibbous, pulling Sirius into bed, rubbing his nose into Sirius’ neck, kissing teeth marks into his neck and shoulders. Sirius has had to become quite adept at the glamour charms Lily taught him, both for the sake of his reputation at work and for Remus’ sanity lest he feel—predictably, for Moony—horrifically guilty about marking Sirius even though Sirius goads him and pushes at those boundaries.

That’s exactly what Sirius plans to do tonight. He paces in a tight line behind the sofa in their living room, rubbing his hands along his upper arms, waiting for Remus to return home. He was on an early shift at the Auror Department today with James, up at the crack of dawn and back home mid-afternoon to a note Remus left on the coffee table.

His handwriting is scrawled and messy, impatient and hurried because he can’t concentrate when the moon is like this, breathing down his neck.

_Summons from Dumbledore. Don’t know when I’ll be back._

Sirius can practically hear Remus’ voice in the unsaid spaces between his note. Spaces that say _I’m so fucking tired. Hope I don’t rip someone’s head off. Can’t wait to be back home. With you._

Sirius eyes the note on the coffee table as he paces. He’s been wound up all day, as if he has pressing concerns but they are nothing tangible because they are Remus’ and he can feel the tides in his blood. He wants Remus. He wants Remus to be okay, to slide down from this uncomfortable high back into the Remus he recognises. Remus now is wound tight, feral and snarling and white-knuckled. Sirius would revel in it more if it weren’t for how clearly uncomfortable Remus is. Sirius is still sore from sex last night, the glamour charms strong around the base of his neck where Remus had bitten him hard and only just stopped shy of breaking the skin. Sirius likes it; perhaps it’s something about Remus being so desperate for him around the full moon, unable to keep his hands off of Sirius, that strikes up the part of Sirius that will always want love and affection. Perhaps it’s the way Remus mutters _mine, mine, mine_ into the bruised nape of Sirius’ neck as they fuck and Sirius feels like he knows what everyone talks about when they say _home_.

Sirius rubs his hand over the sore spots at the hollow of his throat and glances at the time. He’s already showered and changed from his robes and had a luxurious wank in attempt to abate the restlessness settling behind his teeth. It hadn’t done anything though, even his fingers are a poor substitute for Remus’ and Sirius is left wanting and half-aroused as he paces their living room, waiting for Remus.

They won’t stay in the flat, he’s decided. They’ll tear the walls down and rip each other to pieces if they stay in the few rooms they call home. The past three nights have been bad enough, with too much energy overflowing the room and making it seem even smaller than it is, but tonight will be the worst. It’s strange; Sirius feels as if he should follow the full moon protocol they have—call James and Peter over so the three of them are there when Remus gets home, Apparating together to their forest in the Peak District. But Remus won’t transform tonight. So it feels different, it feels wrong, almost. Sirius feels off-kilter as he hatches his plan to let Remus get what he wants tonight, to give them both a reprieve to let off some of this energy.

Remus unlocks the front door and steps through with a weary stoop to his shoulders. He shuts it behind him and looks up to see Sirius pausing behind the sofa. Remus’ eyes are like caverns, catching the light in the single lamp Sirius has lit. For one wild second, Sirius thinks Remus will vault the sofa towards him but instead he drops his bag onto the coat rack and manages a smile.

“Evening Pads,” says Remus, with a voice like iron filings coated in honey. It’s raspy and shorn and sounds as if it would suit a howl better.

Sirius cocks his head. The air in the room twists and thickens and Sirius feels like his breath doesn’t quite reach the bottom of his lungs anymore. “Okay?”

Remus shakes his head. He shucks off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack and tilts his head from side to side. The cracks of his neck snap through the still air and Sirius winces.

“Food?” Sirius asks, clearing his throat. He has a plan. Remus will be mad at first, he imagines, but there will be some bit of him that likes Sirius putting up a fight. It’s probably good for both of them to show their teeth and indulge the primal parts of their brains every so often.

“Not hungry for that,” Remus rumbles, closing the gap between them and circling around the sofa like a predator circles prey to corner it better. Sirius lets his shoulders drift back and tips his chin up, half in defiance, half in submission to bare his throat.

Sirius smiles, one corner of his mouth crooking up, as Remus crowds him against the wall. He lets him, lets Remus press closer and see the way his eyes catch the light. He’s half-hard too, probably has been all day knowing the way Remus is insatiable when he’s like this. Sirius’ ribbon should be glowing with how he feels, with how Remus’ breath is warm over his face, but it’s not because it’s dark outside and Remus won’t have the wolf to contend with tonight, just his own sharp teeth and claws.

“You want me?” Sirius asks, trailing his fingers over the knife-line of Remus’ jaw—it works beneath his touch, the muscles pulsing with how hard Remus is clenching his jaw.

Remus tilts his head and nips at the pads of Sirius’ fingers. His eyes look glassy and molten at the same time, clouding over. Sirius’ breath catches in his throat and his heart hammers as Remus presses him back into the wall, never touching him but crowding him back with the magnetism around him. “You know I do… Been cooped up all day and just been thinking about you… your mouth… your skin, your throat… all of you. You’re all mine.”

Sirius almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. But he knows that getting Remus to really let loose will be better in the long run that trying to coax this fire out of his blood in the confines of their flat, no matter how hard they fuck bent over the kitchen table. So Sirius makes sure there is no part of them touching still as he leans forward to murmur against Remus’ mouth, “Come get me then.”

Sirius Apparates to their forest, to the usual place where they Apparate, and immediately starts running. He’s barefoot, he realises, as the ground thuds beneath his feet, but he pulls his wand from his jeans pocket and casts a quick charm to shield them from the worst of the undergrowth. The pop of Apparation sounds over his shoulder as Sirius is running and Sirius feels Remus in their blood bond; he can almost hear the snarl.

“Sirius!” Remus calls, his voice raw.

Sirius _almost_ stops, but he wants Remus to come get him. “Come catch me!”

He runs, through the thick trees and the undergrowth knee-high in some places. It’s the new moon so the only natural light is the stars until Sirius whispers a Lumos dim enough not to give away his position. Sirius is so used to either being Padfoot or having the light of the full moon but he has neither of these and just keeps running.

Running. Bare feet pounding the ground. Trying to be fast but quiet. Breathing hard, _in out, in out, in out._

The forest is alive around him, writhing under the comforting blanket of new moon darkness. Sirius is exhilarated, his blood running hot and fast beneath his skin in anticipation of what will come when Remus catches him. Remus will catch him. With the moon like this he’s faster and stronger and his magic leaps from his fingers with him barely having to _think_ of the spell. But Sirius is here for the thrill of the chase and the anticipation gathers in his throat in delightful bubbles and twists down to throb in his groin, hot and low. Sirius’ blood feels like it’s singing with the forest as he runs, listening as if he were Padfoot for the approach of a predator. He knows Remus can smell him, knows all of his senses are too sharp by the way he’s been sneezing or rubbing at his eyes more often.

Sirius gets to a dead-end clearing and grips his wand tighter as he Apparates to another spot. He knows Remus will be on his tail right away, because Remus knows both this forest _and_ Sirius like the back of his hand.

Sirius is under no allusions as to what will happen when Remus catches him. He’s counting on it, wants to draw the restlessness out of them and let Remus sleep for the rest of the night and wake up tomorrow without feeling like his bones were trying to spontaneously relocate outside of his body.

And if Sirius gets a good, hard fuck out of it too, then well, it is a win-win situation.

The forest goes still, like the eye of a storm. Sirius screeches to a stop in a small clearing. Remus is in front of him, somehow, tall—he’s shorter than Sirius, by an inch at most, but here in the forest he is all limbs—lean, all muscle. He’s barely out of breath and the wan light of Sirius’ Lumos glints in his animal eyes and Sirius’ whole body jolts with electricity. Remus’ crooked little canine tooth puckers over the sharpness of his smile and he cocks his head, thoroughly enjoying him. Sirius is out of breath and his legs feel like jelly already and he wants to run again, but this is Remus’ forest.

Sirius turns to run at the exact moment Remus lunges forward. He thinks for a moment that he’s made it until Remus tackles him and Sirius’ body falls like dead-weight under him and Sirius can only taste forest floor and heady desire. All the breath is knocked out of Sirius as he hits the ground and Remus keeps him there with a knee at his thigh and a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Got you,” Remus rumbles, leaning down to snuff his nose against the nape of Sirius’ neck.

“Yeah?” Sirius turns his head to the side to breath in a great, shuddering lungful of oxygen but Remus is pressing against him, pinning him, the bulge in his jeans pressing against Sirius’ lower back. Sirius scrambles beneath Remus, scratching at the ground and trying to get a knee beneath him to get some kind of purchase, to slip out from beneath him and run again, let Remus have the chase, but Remus has him tight, one hand sliding up to grasp through his hair.

“Shh, stay _still._”

Sirius huffs out a little breathless laugh, still twisting beneath Remus. Remus is pressed _so_ hard against him and Sirius can’t see a thing except the forest floor but he can _feel_ Remus and all of his energy filling up the clearing. “No. Fight me for it.”

Remus chuckles, scraping his teeth over the soft, velvet hair at the edge of Sirius’ hairline. “You can _try_, love.” He shifts his weight, still clenching fingers into Sirius’ hair and goes to press his knee between Sirius’ thighs.

Everything in Sirius’ body is telling him to _give in_, _let him, arch back into him and push his hips back against Remus’ cock and let his lover fuck him into the forest floor with the taste of earth in his mouth._ But Sirius wants this to last, finding he enjoys being on this precipice, on this edge of fear, adrenaline and excitement coursing through him. Sirius is painfully hard, pressing into the ground beneath him but he’s still struggling, pressing his thighs together to make Remus work for it.

“Padfoot,” Remus says, half-laughing but there is a snarl in his voice, as if he can’t quite believe Sirius isn’t letting him get what he wants. “Behave.”

“No.” Sirius grins. That’s unlikely to happen. “Make me.”

It’s the new moon, so whilst Remus is feeling the pull of it, so close to the Earth but shrouded in darkness, his strength isn’t what it is when the moon is full, but his magic still presses at Sirius and makes him breathless. If this were the full moon and Remus wished he would have Sirius pinned with one hand and forced his legs open without even trying. At present, Remus has to _try_ and Sirius struggles, pressing back against him to try and get a knee beneath himself. All he succeeds in doing, though, is grinding the cleft of his arse against Remus’ erection and drawing a snarl from the other man.

Remus presses his hand in Sirius’ hair down, pressing him into the dirt and the fallen leaves but Sirius smiles anyway because Remus feels so good like this. Remus, who even around the full moon needs coaxing to let out all of his excess energy, needs Sirius to tell him again and again that it is _okay_. Tonight, Sirius hopes, Remus won’t worry about leaving marks or keeping up with his sense of propriety when they are in their forest, where they can be animals. It seems to be working so far.

Sirius manages to get purchase with the toes of one foot, pushing up and back against Remus to give him space to move. Remus moans, low and dangerous, at the press of their bodies but Sirius drives an elbow back into his stomach and scrambles away when Remus relinquishes his grip on Sirius’ hair enough. He’s covered in dirt and leaves, beneath his fingernails, against his bare stomach where his shirt has ridden up.

Remus grabs Sirius’ ankle and hauls him back when he’s only a few feet away. Sirius is jittering with adrenaline as he twists onto his back and kicks out at Remus with his other foot, grinning, but it feels feral for how feral his blood is running. Remus pins him with a hand on his hip, the other releasing his ankle to grapple with Sirius’ belt.

Sirius grins, pushing him away with both feet now, bringing a knee up between them. He’s breathless—Auror training doesn’t necessitate running around forests and Padfoot is far more suited to the terrain than Sirius—but he’s still fighting because Sirius is made of adrenaline and starlight right now, spangling with it.

“Stop it,” Remus snarls, pushing Sirius’ foot away and pinning one of Sirius’ thighs beneath his knee.

Huffing another laugh, Sirius pushes himself up to bat Remus’ hands away, digging his nails in and pushing the other man away. They grapple for a moment, Remus’ lip curling back from his teeth as he snatches one of Sirius’ hands up and pins it to the mulch beneath him, tight around his wrist, biting, pressing.

“You have to work for it, Moony,” Sirius snatches out on a gasp, writhing and wriggling beneath Remus as much as he can as Remus yanks his belt open. He’s still trying—half-heartedly now, he supposes—to push Remus away with the free arm and leg he has. His wand had fallen beside them as he fell, casting just enough light on the pair for Sirius to see Remus’ eyes, his smile, the bridge of his nose that has been slightly crooked since a bad moon in fourth year. Remus blends into the background unless you are looking for him, and here, now, he is the only thing Sirius has ever looked for.

“Fuck you,” Remus snaps, sliding his palm over Sirius’ cock beneath his jeans.

Sirius throws his head back and laughs, feels the leaves and sticks lodge in his hair as he shifts against the ground, a moan cutting through his amusement. He rakes the nails of his free hand up the curve of Remus’ bicep, across the cut of his shoulder blade, around the nape of his neck and up through his hair. He twists at Remus’ hair and hauls his own weight up with his grip to kiss the corner of Remus’ mouth, open and wanton. “Oh, I hope you do.” Sirius grins, dirt-streaked, against Remus’ jaw, Remus’ hand still pressing at his cock beneath his jeans and stoking the fire that has been brewing in him all day.

Remus turns his head and snatches Sirius’ mouth into a heated kiss. He bites at Sirius’ bottom lip and Sirius clenches his jaw shut when Remus’ tongue slides presumptuously along the seam of his lips.

“Sirius,” Remus growls into his mouth, fingernails rasping over the denim of Sirius’ jeans, a warning over the tender flesh of his cock. Sirius lifts his hips towards the sensation and hisses through his clenched teeth, but he doesn’t give in because he wants Remus to _want_.

Remus pulls back and watches him for a moment, his mouth looking pink and alluring and dangerous. Sirius can’t lay still, Remus’ hand on him, gripped beneath him. Tossing the power between them is always so fun and Sirius can never get enough of it, serving Remus the ace and letting him fire it back into Sirius’ half of the court with unfailing precision. Remus trails fingernails up the smattering of hair on Sirius’ stomach, over the fabric of his shirt, up the tender flesh of his throat, to fit at the angle of his jaw. His thumb strokes, for a moment, where Sirius had bitten his back teeth together to make Remus _work_ for his mouth.

“You’re so pretty,” Remus mutters, his voice like distant thunder. Sirius’ smile loosens for just a moment, the muscle of his jaw going lax. He thinks of Remus on muzzy Sunday mornings, curled around Sirius after Sirius has fucked them both into honey-loose glory. _You’re so pretty,_ in the dawn light, curling strands of Sirius’ hair around his fingers. Sirius relaxes a little with the memory, and that’s his mistake. Remus pounces with the predators instinct, with how easily Sirius’ defences had crumbled and Remus grins into the kiss, his crooked canine tooth scraping over Sirius’ lip. He pushes his thumb against Sirius’ jaw to prise it open and licks into his mouth with the self-assuredness of someone who _owns_ it.

Sirius is jellied splendour beneath Remus, his free hand still clenching in Remus’ hair whilst the other is held fast against the ground where Sirius can feel the primordial heartbeat of the forest. He lifts his hips as Remus yanks at Sirius’ jeans, pulling them down. The sound of rending fabric snaps through the clearing and Sirius grunts, breaking the kiss and kicking at Remus in earnest.

“I like these jeans, you arsehole!”

“Shouldn’t struggle then,” Remus retorts, tightening his grip on Sirius’ wrist. He hums, pleasantly surprised, when met with Sirius’ bare flesh beneath his jeans. “No underwear?”

“No.” Sirius grins, raking his fingernails down the back of Remus’ neck. “Thinking of you all afternoon. What you’d do. Thought you’d like it like that.”

Remus chuckles and wraps his fingers around Sirius’ cock, slick with the lubrication spell he hadn’t even had to _think_ about casting for how much magic is brewing in the area around them. Sirius moans and bucks his hips against the sensation, back bowing from the ground as he stares up at Remus, glittering like starlight in the deep-dark.

“Do you?” Sirius asks, twisting up as much as he can with one leg and one wrist pinned to the ground beneath Remus. He clenches his fingers into Remus’ shoulder, smiling around the swollen part of his lower lip where Remus has bitten. “Do you like it like this?” Sirius wriggles away, twisting away from Remus’ slick-hot touch and detaching his fingers from Remus’ shoulder. “You don’t get it ’til you answer,” Sirius chides, grinning ear to ear, still panting breathless forest air.

If it weren’t a super moon pulling at Remus’ blood he would’ve rolled his eyes at Sirius being a little shit, but Remus wants one thing tonight and although Sirius is desperate to give it to him, he wants him to work for it too. Instead, Remus grasps at Sirius’ other hand in an attempt to get him pinned. Sirius grins and twists away from him, wrenching at his still-caught wrist to try and get free.

“Shut up, Sirius. Just—” Remus cuts himself off as Sirius yanks out of his grip and rolls onto his side to crawl away again. Remus seizes his arm and wrenches it back, pinning at the small of his back, knee against his thigh again. Sirius’ cock presses into the earth and his stomach as Remus’ fingers push Sirius’ shirt up and his jeans down, exposing a slice of pale skin to the starlight. Remus leans down and mouths at the back of Sirius’ neck. “Just let me,” he mumbles, pressing and gripping. “Just let me.”

Sirius melts. He pushes his hips back as much as he can, permission already given, permission granted for eternity for Remus to do as he wishes so long as it makes him feel better. “Yeah,” Sirius breathes, turning to press his cheek to the earth so he can breathe. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Moony, whatever you want.”

Remus eases a slick finger into Sirius with a sharp little groan. Sirius sinks into the ground and lifts his hips towards Remus, relishing in the pressure of the other man on top of him, relishing the pain of his arm twisted behind him, the taste of dirt in his mouth, residual with Remus’ kisses. Sirius urgesRemus on, unable to form words with the sudden rush of pleasure, but pushing back into him. He struggles a little, enough for Remus to press him down, but not enough to let any of this stop.

“Fuck—” Remus growls when Sirius yelps into the still night air, Remus’ fingers in him, three now, he thinks, he can’t tell, could be four, could be his whole fucking hand for how full Sirius feels. Sirius is on edge, teetering on a cliff edge, the moment before disaster. Remus still has one of Sirius’ arms behind his back, pulling at Sirius just enough to keep him tense, keep him twisting and not quite breathing deep enough to reach the bottom of his lungs and Sirius feels _alive_ with it. He presses his forehead into the ground and sobs with sensation.

Remus’ fingers are fucking into him hard, pressing over his prostate, stretching him. Sirius feels as if he’s going to split into pieces, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as Remus thrusts his fingers deeper and harder. The orgasm takes him by surprise, stretching him taut against the forest floor, shuddering and speared as he comes, shaking and dry. Remus takes that moment—that first twitch of Sirius’ body, that first sharp inhale of pleasure—to remove his fingers and fuck into his body in one long, smooth, slick-slide movement.

Sirius chokes on his moans, stripped bare and pulled apart, incapable of nothing but sensation, just feeling, too much feeling, so much feeling it’s numb and Sirius is _all_ feeling. His free hand scrabbles against the dirt, through leaves and mulch, to try and grasp onto something to make him more than just feeling, something tangible that Remus can keep a hold of, else Sirius will just flitter away into the ether like starlight, ripped apart by Remus.

The forest is still-silence around them, all other predators gone, leaving them to the quiet and the breeze in the canopy and Sirius’ ragged, yelping breaths and Remus’ low, keening growls. Sirius grips into the dirt and pushes his hips back with every thrust. Remus’ fingers tangle in his hair, his thumb brushing over the nape of Sirius’ neck like gentle, open kisses.

Strung up on feeling, pulled apart, hung, drawn, quartered on the silence of the night and the wholeness of feeling, Sirius pushes back against Remus, pushes on him, takes him deeper into his soul and mind and the part of this forest that is theirs alone. They go deeper off the trail, away from civilisation, into copses and clusters so far from humanity Sirius thinks he can’t remember how to _speak_. He knows only Remus.

Remus kisses the nape of Sirius’ neck, the angle of his jaw where Sirius’ head is pressed to the side. Sirius can’t turn his head to meet kisses, not with the way Remus is pressing him, pinned by his cock and his hands and the weight of him and the forest on Sirius’ back. Sirius scratches and claws at the ground beneath him as Remus mouths over the sharp of Sirius’ shoulder blade and fucks deep into him like they are one being and not two. Every shunt of Remus’ hips shoves Sirius further into the dirt, his knees scraping, fingers scratching. Sirius arches and lets him with every movement, one arm still taut behind him, trapped between his and Remus’ body and he never wants to be _anywhere_ else. Sirius feels pinned by all of him, like the wolf is here right at the surface and Remus never _means_ to do this. He doesn’t like losing himself to the closeness of the moon, but Sirius knows he will feel better for it after this.

_Moony_, he wants to say, gasping around breath, but the words don’t come. In the darkness, just starlight and the phantom blackness of the new moon so close and yet invisible, like a spectre at the back of Remus’ neck, urging him onwards. To take what he wants, what he is owed. Sirius lays himself bare on the forest floor like an offering to a God with no name, to a God no one can remember, to an unseen God that has wrapped his phantom fingers around Remus’ throat and eased him into godliness. Sirius is a ritual sacrifice to bring his lover back from the moon and he goes willingly, draped in oversaturated goodness, like a reliquary to hold something beautiful.

“Sirius,” Remus moans into the back of Sirius’ neck, shorn and beautiful, ragged with the weight of his pleasure. Sirius curls his toes into the gloaming dirt and presses up to Remus, trying to get enough space between his body and the earth to get a hand around his own dick, jaw to temple slammed into the ground so he can taste and smell the forest around them like it is one with him.

Sirius moans in response, torn apart, only base and animal now, fucking Remus and being fucked by Remus, fucking together and each other, around, inside, atop, beneath. Remus is making quiet little noises into the silk-black of Sirius’ hair, like he’s not quite inside his own body, like his bones are not his own and Sirius knows that feeling well.

They are just starlight tonight, the dark absence of the moon.

Remus comes and sinks his teeth into the nape of Sirius’ neck just atop the neckline of his shirt. The sound of smacking flesh on flesh resonates through the forest like the pan flutes of old Gods, summoning the life back to the forest. Sirius gasps with every vicious fuck as Remus’ orgasm snatches and steals through his limbs to pull him through glory. Remus stills for a moment, panting hard against Sirius’ skin, so deep inside him Sirius thinks Remus’ heartbeat is his own. He’s _so close_, on the precipice of the forest, the darkness looming up to consume him and he wants to fall into it.

Sirius mutters something that must sound like _Remus_ into the mulchy undergrowth because Remus pulls out, still panting hard, and eases his clenched fingers from Sirius’ hair. Sirius is just electricity, just starlight and _wanting_ as Remus urges him onto his back. He barely feels the snarls of discomfort shooting up his spine and down the backs of his thighs, starlight does not feel pain. He feels Remus’ warm, wet mouth kissing his inner thighs, nudging his legs apart, stiff and sore where they’ve been pinned beneath Remus.

It’s unbearably soft, staring up at the starlight when Sirius _is_ starlight, with Remus’ mouth kissing and kissing, indescribably, painfully soft. Remus licks at Sirius’ cock, softly, gently, with still panting breaths and the tremors of his orgasm clear as he grips Sirius’ hips, gently, softly.

When Remus takes Sirius into his mouth, Sirius makes a low, wounded kind of noise and arches up from the forest floor. His body goes taut for a handful of shallow, scraping breaths as he comes down Remus’ growl-stricken throat before Sirius sinks and moulds into the earth beneath him. Sirius is still starlight, hooked up into the sky by puppeteer wire, even as Remus crawls up the pale, broad lengths of his body and kisses his sternum, his clavicle, his neck, the corner of his panting mouth.

“Are you okay?” Sirius whispers, wrapping his arms around Remus’ shoulders as the other man slumps against him, moon-tired. Pain starts to filter through Sirius’ nervous system, soft and slow, but he is here with Remus, with the forest starting to come alive around them.

Remus scoffs into Sirius’ shirt, rubs his nose there for a moment, before lifting his head to look at Sirius through the darkness. “I should be asking you that.”

“Oh shut up.” Sirius cards shaking fingers through Remus’ hair and kisses the downturned corner of his mouth. “I told you to chase me. Knew what would happen.”

“Don’t know if I should be pleased you goaded me or not…”

Sirius smiles into Remus’ hair. “You feel better for it?”

“Mmmhmm,” Remus ushers out on a yawn, the sound stretching with his mouth. “Tired now.”

“Good. Sleep, Moons, get some rest.”

It doesn’t take too long for Remus’ breathing to even out properly. Sirius lays on his back, jeans still around his ankles, streaked with dirt and sweat. The arm that was pinned behind his back is stretched out beside him to ease the dull ache there, and the other arm is fastened tightly over Remus’ gently rising-falling shoulders. He thinks he should cast a repelling charm to make sure they don’t end up with a bear waking them up at dawn but he doesn’t care enough cuddled with Remus like this.

Even though it’s Remus, sleep-warm and slumped, snuffling into Sirius’ dirt-streaked shirt, and not Moony, the forest will know, he thinks, that the wolf is here.


End file.
